


always on her mind

by leslie057



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon couple, Dating, F/M, Fanfic, Fic, Fluff, I promise its not smut its just the beginning of one lol, Jancy, Kissing, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 02, Study Date, Studying, also physiology is apparently arousing, jonathan x nancy, mike lowkey hates nancy but not really, the party is in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: Her brother used to always tease her about “human anatomy” tests...or: nancy and jonathan get distracted while studying and el walks in





	always on her mind

_January 1985_

 

Her brother used to tease her about preparing for “human anatomy” tests.

Now, she’s actually  _taking_ Anatomy and Physiology. And there’s a joint test coming up on chapters 14, 15, and 16. She _failed_ the last one, which was a devastating first. So she really, really should be studying.

Problem is: Jonathan’s eyes look so nice as he focuses on his textbook, his hair so soft and windblown, his navy sweater tight in all the right places.

They’re in her living room, which isn’t ideal because the boys—and girls, she remembers—are just a staircase away, down in the basement. But, for some reason, Holly refused to take her nap _anywhere_ but Nancy’s room, so here they are. Sitting on the carpet together, leaning against the recliner. The window is open, allowing pleasant sunlight to douse the room. Not too cold, but chilly enough because of the breeze that she very much wishes he would warm her up.

The point is, they have the perfect conditions for studying. It’s pacific, it’s quiet. But her teenage hormones have mistaken a good reading environment for a good _romantic_ environment. Curse the cerebral cortex for making her want to be pleasured, and definitely curse this course that they don’t even _have_ to take.

Screw it, the test is in a week; they can take a little break for now.

Following through with the first phase of her plan, she ever so subtly leans closer to him, her chin hovering over his shoulder. “What did you get for number ten?”

She also bites her lip for good measure, trying to make her mannerisms appear natural, as he glances at her.

“You’re on number ten?” he asks, too incredulously in her opinion because she’s the one who _failed_ last time. God, that word still makes her queasy.

“I’m,” she begins shyly, “reviewing.” She tips her head to the side, arches her back as if to say _Look at me! Just turn your head! I’m here, wearing the white sweater that you love. It has a V collar, okay, so just look at me! Look at my exposed neck._

Of course, he doesn’t. “Well, then the answer’s the spinal cord.”

“You mean, the answer is, or _your_ answer is?” she teases, her voice meant to have seductive undertones but then again, this chapter is about cranial nerves, which isn’t all that sexy.

He swallows, maybe a little flustered because she really is good at this. But they need to study. “I mean it’s my answer, and it’s the right answer,” he says calmly, confidently. And he finally looks at her, with a maintained expression of concentration.

“But why is it the spinal cord? I mean, the description doesn’t clearly state whether the fluid is in the third or fourth ventricle yet.” She somehow leans in more, fingers curling around his bicep while she flips back a few pages in the book with her free hand.

For a moment, he thinks she actually may not be trying. What if he’s just in love with her? _What if everything she does is attractive?_ That’s always a possibility.

He silently reads the brief paragraph that she points out. And as he does, those sweet, dark eyes of his scanning the text, she just happens to be rubbing his arm through the fabric of that heavenly sweater.

He comes to the conclusion that she _is_ trying. It may or may not be working.

“It does,” he finally tells her and doesn’t stutter, to his own amazement. “Look, it says ‘in a cavity anterior-inferior to the cerebellum.’”

She decides to play dumb in hopes of being “hot,” but the plan is flawed to begin with because if Jonathan were attracted to dull girls, he’d be dating Carol.

Anyway, she continues, wondering if he can feel her breath on his skin, on his jaw. He can. “Okay, but I don’t get it. The third and fourth are connected, aren’t they? By the...the aqua-thing.”

“Aqueduct.”

“Yeah.” She pauses, one leg crossed over the other, pushing her knee against his straightened leg. “Well, are they?” she asks, being so blatantly coquettish, her fingers lightly tapping on his muscle.

“Nancy,” he speaks. Kind of like a warning, and he might as well be telling her _I want you_.

“What?” she questions like something’s wrong, her gaze fixed on his mouth.

“Come on, you...you wrote the cards for…” he trails off, turning his head.

_So close. Just come here._

And he’s kissing her, and she’s won.

She thinks it’s cute that he didn’t respond to all the come-on she gave him at first, but now it’s wonderful that he has.

She breathes the kiss in, letting go of his arm hesitantly so she can sweep everything—textbooks, flashcards, highlighters—aside. She climbs onto his lap, but refrains from straddling because _then_ she’ll never go back to studying. Instead, she tucks her legs to the side, sort of side-sitting on him, and she dwells on how effortlessly expressive each gentle push of his lips on hers is. Like he’s allowing her to see precisely what he feels for her, experience every memory he associates her with, his hand warming her cheek all the while.

There’s hotness at her fingertips and deep in her chest that she’s accustomed to because of him and has an obsession with, the furnace of her heart switched on. Sparks race just beneath her skin and all over it, too.

Her grades have been slipping inconsistently all year; she has had such difficulty concentrating on school. It was worse before they went to the lab, before there was a “they,” to be honest. But it’s still a struggle when she knows what’s out there, when she gets anxious, when she constantly thinks about all the things she wishes she weren’t terrified of and mulls over ideas about the whole Gate thing. He’s the exception, naturally. He’s so easy to zero in on, always on her mind, which is why this is  _so_ worth a study break.

He parts his lips slowly, pauses, teasing her for way too long as her hands rake through his hair, and then closes his mouth around her tongue, the kiss dirty and clean all at once. She’s dizzy, she’s sighing. Her eyes are watering from the passion, like always. And thanks to the Anatomy course, she knows the science behind all this. Knows her brain is overloading on dopamine and serotonin, causing her to tear up, which can only mean they’re in love.

Because of course they are. They always will be.

His slow pace is overwhelming, his tempting downright cruel, so she breaks away from an almost-kiss and acquaints his neck with her lips, their thoughts no longer about cerebrospinal fluid. He shifts beneath her, left knee bending, her palm pressing on his right thigh. So she shifts too, sliding forward on his lap, her right hand clinging to the collar of his shirt as she kisses down the column of his neck. It’s a little possessive, a lot forceful because that’s how she is. And he’s okay with it. He’s looking down, eyes periodically opening then falling closed again. He feels her hair and even _eyelashes_ on his skin, and because he knows they have more important things to do, pulls away, displaying impressive willpower.

She, completely lost in this, does not take the hint.

But as her mouth finds its way back to his, sleeve of her fuzzy sweater pulled over the hand she rests on his jaw, they hear—

Eleven. She’s frozen at the top of the basement stairs, staring at them through the kitchen, until she scrambles to pick up the cup she dropped.

“Shit,” Nancy curses to herself out of surprise and promptly crawls off of him, blushing profusely but giggling. She tries to smooth down her messy curls. Jonathan is not any more composed than she.

“I’m...so sorry,” Eleven politely says, with a volume louder than her usual. Before another moment passes, before Nancy can assure her it’s okay, she’s hurrying back down.

She’s blushing, too, socked feet clumsily speeding down the staircase. She quickly walks over to the couch and sits down in her spot beside Mike. Her hands toy with the empty cup, holding it upside down.

“Wait, El, I thought you were thirsty,” he chuckles, dismissing an argument going on between Dustin and Max in front of them.

“Um, yes. Yeah,” she confirms awkwardly and looks straight ahead. She knows from soap operas that kissing is a very intimate thing and can’t help but feel she’s invaded his sister’s privacy.

“Well, what happened?” he asks, voice still light and playful. But then: “Is something wrong?”

“I...got distracted.”

Suddenly, everyone’s looking at her. Lucas, Will, and even Dustin and Max who haven’t finished their debate on whether Superman or Wonder Woman is the better hero.

“Distracted?” Mike repeats.

Eleven is reluctant to continue but feels she must. “By,” she says nervously, “Nancy and Jonathan.”

His smile falters, and Max laughs when he groans, “Oh, my God.” In the most bitter way possible, he asks, “What about them?”

“They were _kissing_ ,” she quietly reveals, as if it’s a secret she shouldn’t be telling.

Not that she thinks kissing is gross. And he doesn’t either. Except when his older sister’s involved.

“Ugh, here,” he mumbles, grabbing the cup. Will would probably laugh, but he's embarrassed, too. 

From the living room, Nancy can hear Mike stomping up the stairs, rather dramatically. But he’s always dramatic.

“Nancy,” he shouts, approaching them.

“Hi?” she tries sheepishly, her cheek covered by her hand. Sitting approximately a yard away from Jonathan, who won’t look up from his notes.

“Why are you guys in here?”

“I don’t know, because I _live_ here.” She laughs her way through the sentence softly, fairly lightheaded.

Mike isn’t charmed and rolls his eyes. “I mean, why aren’t you in your room? Why would you go to, like, the closest room to the basement?”

“Because Holl wouldn’t sleep anywhere but my bed!”

“You made El feel bad! She thinks she did something wrong.”

“Well, clearly, no one feels as bad as you do,” she quips, sounding a thousand times less serious than him, and continues writing in her notebook.

“She does!”

Jonathan sighs, finally looking up. “We’re sorry.”

“Well, one of us is,” she states shyly.

“Look, when Holly wakes up, can you please just go?” Mike continues, looking at Nancy like she’s committed a felony.

She huffs. “Okay, fine.” And once Mike turns and heads to the kitchen, out of earshot, she mutters in that flirtatious voice she’d been using, “I want nothing more.” Jonathan cannot believe her.

“This is your fault,” he whispers, dragging his book into his lap.

“You mean Mike’s fault!” she corrects, especially loud so her brother hears.

As he fills El’s drink, his shoulders angrily rise then drop. “You said you were doing _homework_.”

“ _You_ said we would stop fighting all the time, so I guess we’re both liars.”

Jonathan stays silent, writing and writing and writing on a notecard. He would feel bad, and does a little, but Mike and Nancy have never gotten along, so he knows this doesn’t have to do with him.

“You know what, I forgot. You guys take Anatomy. Turns out you _were_ studying,” he _sasses_ , so annoyingly petulant, but she’s left speechless, and he’s already back in the basement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> oops i didnt mean to write this


End file.
